Cardiff Craving
"Rugby physio Nneka treats Wales' finest players—but the thick Liberian team nutritionist who joins the staff proves that some appetites can't be satisfied with meal plans."
The treatment room was supposed to be for players only.
But when Martha walked in—thick Liberian curves in a team tracksuit—Nneka forgot the rules.
"I have tension," Martha said. "In my shoulders."
"You're not a player."
"I work with the team. Surely I qualify for treatment?"
"That's not standard—"
"Please?"
The treatment evolved beyond shoulders.
Martha's thick body responded to every touch. Her sounds weren't professional at all.
"This is inappropriate," Nneka said.
"Very." Martha turned over. "Continue anyway."
After hours, when the stadium emptied, they met in the treatment room.
Rugby tables could hold significant weight. They proved it repeatedly.
"We could be sacked," Nneka said.
"We could." Martha pulled her down. "Worth it?"
"Completely."
Cardiff's rugby success improved.
Team cohesion, they said. Staff chemistry.
They didn't know how much chemistry.
"Best colleague I've ever had," Martha told HR.
In the treatment room, she said other things entirely.